


Long Journey Home

by anniemoon



Series: Untitled Ted/Michael series [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Brian/Michael friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-04
Updated: 2001-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniemoon/pseuds/anniemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prequel and sequel to No Regrets. Written between S1 and S2.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Long Journey Home

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel and sequel to No Regrets. Written between S1 and S2.

Michael wakes when he feels Ted slip quietly out of bed. He stirs a bit -- thinking Ted has just gone to get some water, take a piss maybe -- then goes back to sleep. A short time later, he wakes again and Ted's side of the bed is cold.

He gets up, pulls the door open, rubs his eyes sleepily as he opens his mouth to ask Ted why he's up at this time of night.

He sees Ted sitting on the couch. And next to him -- Blake.

Michael stands there frozen, time passing without him being aware of it. He blinks, takes a couple of steps back into the bedroom, and closes the door gently. He presses his forehead against the cool wood grain and sighs.

He thought this day might come. He just doesn't know what to do now that it has.

 

\---------------------------------

Ted found him on the roof of the hospital that night, crouching against the wall and staring blankly at nothing. Michael couldn't remember exactly how long Ted had been there, sitting beside him, before he finally cleared his throat and spoke.

"He's going to be okay."

Michael stirred, looked at Ted. "You saw the doctor?"

"No, Justin is still in surgery. There's been no word yet. I meant Brian."

"Oh."

"I know you're worried about him. But he's going to be fine. He's not the one that got attacked."

Michael was irritated. "You didn't see him. When I got here, he was covered in blood. He was crying, Ted. You didn't see what I saw. You don't fucking know anything." He stood up and stalked across the roof to look out over the city. He remembered the last time he had been up on this roof, celebrating and commiserating with Brian over the birth of his son, and wondered where all the months in between had gone.

Ted followed him, laid a hand on his arm. "You're right. I didn't see him. I'm sorry." He walked away and Michael called after him.

"Ted?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I blew it."

Ted walked back over to him. "What do you mean?"

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. "With David. I was going with him, almost on the plane. I took Brian's call. I did exactly what he expected me to do."

"Jesus, Michael, Justin was attacked! He could die. I think David will forgive you for not hopping on a plane with him tonight."

Michael shook his head. "You don't get it. I didn't know why Brian was calling. I just saw his number and answered it. I hesitated for a second, but I still fucking answered it. I chose Brian over David."

"You could call him in the morning," Ted offered. "I'm sure he would understand. You could take a later flight."

"I don't know. Maybe. Fuck!" Michael shouted. He didn't want Ted's - or anyone's - understanding tonight. He wanted distraction. He looked carefully at Ted for the first time. Ted looked tired, worn. "What about you? Everything okay?"

Ted nodded automatically. "Sure. I'm fine." He stopped, ran his fingers through his hair. "No, that's not true. Blake's gone. He checked himself out of rehab. He wanted drugs more than he wanted me." Michael heard the anguish in Ted's voice.

"Jesus, Ted, I'm sorry. I know how much you love him. He's got to know that, too. He'll come back; you'll see." He reached out and pulled Ted into a warm hug, not really surprised when Ted started crying. What did surprise him were his own tears, saltyhot rivulets running into the corners of his mouth. Ted pulled back and kissed him softly on the forehead, gently resting his lips there. Michael tilted his head back, looked into Ted's eyes, returned his comforting kiss with one of his own.

Michael couldn't remember later how they had moved from the sweet kisses of friends giving comfort to the desperate kisses of two men trying to find any escape, any solace from the misery consuming them both. Their coupling on the cold concrete of the roof was a haze of awkward fumblings and muttered apologies as they took what they needed from each other. It wasn't about love or even about friendship. It was about feeling anything other than abject desolation.

When it was over, they dressed without speaking to each other. They returned to the hospital, went to find anyone who knew of Justin's condition.

The next morning, Michael called David and told him about the attack. A week later, when he knew Justin was going to live, he flew to Portland. In that week, he and Ted never spoke about what happened.

 

\--------------------------------------

Michael sits in their bed, leaning against a pillow and holding another filled with Ted's scent. He can hear murmured voices and he's tempted to press his ear against the door to see if he can listen to their conversation, but he resists the temptation.

He wonders if he should go out there, act surprised but casual about seeing Blake, pour himself a glass of water, kiss Ted on the cheek.

No, too obvious. Too pathetic.

He twists the sheets in his hands and wonders if he's going to be sleeping alone the rest of the night.

 

\-------------------------------------------

Coming back to Pittsburgh was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. Telling everyone that his relationship with David had failed was another.

He almost expected to see a glimmer of satisfaction, perhaps hope, in Ted's expression when he told them. There was only sympathy and compassion. He should have known it would be like that, that Ted wouldn't be that selfish, that vindictive. He had forgotten so much about the people he loved in the short time he was gone.

He showed up at Ted's place one night, drunk and stinking of smoke and sweat from Babylon. Ted opened the door to his pounding, hair rumpled and sticking up on one side, and opened his mouth to ask Michael what he was doing banging on his door at two in the morning.

Michael kissed him, thrust his tongue into Ted's mouth and pulled frantically at both of their clothes.

Ted struggled, pushed Michael away and held him at arm's length. "What are you doing, Michael?"

"Isn't this what you always wanted?" Michael asked, feeling a sense of deja vu. He'd been here before, hadn't he? Only, not this place, not this person. And he hadn't been the one asking this question.

Ted stared at him. Walked away. "Get out. Go home. Get some sleep."

Michael came up behind him, slid his hands down Ted's back. "I know you want me. And it's not like we haven't done this before."

Ted moved away again, refused to look at Michael. "That night was...that was different. I won't be your consolation prize. You can't have David and you can't have Brian and I'm sorry about that. But you can't have me either. Not like this. Go home," he repeated, gentler this time.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Teddy," Michael choked out. "I'm not--I'm stuck...somewhere."

Ted turned around and gazed at him. "I know. It'll get better. And I'll always be here for you."

Michael didn't close the door when he left.

 

\-------------------------------------

He rolls over on his side and chews at his thumbnail, worrying the skin until it's raw to the touch. His nerves feel the same way as he waits for Ted to return.

He wants to pace but knows that Ted will hear him. He doesn't want Ted to know that he's lying awake like this, feeling this anxiousness and uncertainty.

Ted was always the one with the insecurities, always the one to worry about a hot guy checking out Michael or maybe that Michael would become bored, want something new, exciting. Michael always had one constant that never wavered over the last two years: he knew that Ted was utterly devoted to him, that nothing would cause him to turn away from Michael.

Michael continues to wait.

 

\--------------------------------

"You really should hire someone to do this for you," Michael grunted as he reached for more polish. He and Brian were cleaning the floors in Brian's loft, a quarterly ritual for the two of them.

"Every time we do this you say that and every time you say that, I say 'I'm not going to trust some fucking Mr. Clean assholes who are just going to--'"

"'--scratch up the floors,'" Michael joined in on the familiar refrain as he carefully smoothed out a scuffed spot. "Yeah. I got it."

"Besides," Brian continued with a smirk, "if we didn't do the floors, we wouldn't be able to do this." He took a running leap across the gleaming wood and slid, nearly careening into the sofa. He regained his balance and bowed to Michael.

Michael tilted his head. "Good execution but shaky on the dismount. I give it a 5.8."

Brian grinned. "Practice runs don't count, Mikey. Let's see you do better."

Michael returned his grin, spun around three times, and threw himself into the slide, narrowly missing a lamp. Brian clapped sardonically and responded with another slide. They spent forty-five minutes creating new and more complicated slides, hollering scores and heckling each other.

Finally, they collapsed on the couch, panting with exertion. Brian rolled his head and winced as his neck popped. Michael laughed. "You know, Brian, if anyone but me saw you do this, you'd lose your surly reputation."

"And if anyone knew about your collection of romance novels, you'd lose your comic nerd reputation," Brian shot back. "Although, that might not be a bad thing."

Michael swatted his arm. A comfortable silence fell over the loft. Brian staggered to the fridge and poured water for both of them. He handed a glass to Michael, who took it with a nod of thanks and drained it. Brian studied him and he squirmed under that penetrating stare.

"What?"

Brian shook his head. "Nothing. You just seem different."

"We haven't really spent any time together since I got back to Pittsburgh," Michael pointed out. "It's been a rough couple of months for me. For all of us. But I think things are picking up."

"Yeah," Brian mused. "No longer pining over David, I take it?"

"No."

"Good. Don't waste your life pining after anyone, Mikey. It's fucking pathetic and I raised you better than that. Time to move on."

Michael blushed. "I...well..."

Brian grinned with glee. "Why, Mikey! You met a new fella, have you? Tell Uncle Brian all about it," he mocked.

Michael rolled his eyes and blushed harder. "Shut up. You sound like an idiot when you imitate Emmett. I didn't exactly meet someone...I...I had sex with Ted," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

The smile didn't just fall off Brian's face, it ran away and hid. "You...what? With Ted? What?"

Michael had to laugh. "Brian fucking Kinney is speechless. Now that's a first."

"Fuck you," Brian growled. "Now tell me exactly what possessed you to fuck Ted Schmidt. You must have been high."

Michael explained it to him, about that night at the hospital and how everything was both hazy and painfully, sharply real all at once, how he tried to turn to Ted for comfort again when David rejected him and Brian was too caught up in Justin to pay any attention to him. He told him about the unlimited compassion and understanding Ted had shown him, had always shown him for as long as they had known each other, how Ted turned him down without making him feel humiliated. He told him how he had gone home that night, slept for fifteen hours, and woke up feeling that, for the first time since he had come back to Pittsburgh, things were going to get better.

He talked and talked and Brian listened to everything he said, completely expressionless. He finally trailed off and stared glumly at the polished floor. "I guess you're going to tell me I'm an idiot or call Ted a fucking bore and old or say that it's just because I'm lonely. Go on. You're probably right."

When Brian didn't say anything, Michael looked up at him. Brian seemed lost in thought, then he shook it off and narrowed his eyes at Michael.

"No, that's not what I'm going to tell you."

"It's not?"

Brian walked across the floor and leaned against the kitchen island. "No. What I'm going to tell you is that Ted, despite being -- yes -- boring and old, would do anything for you. He won't try to fucking change you into what he wants you to be, like the good doc did. And he won't try to keep you the same, like I did...do. He wants you, exactly the way you are." Brian took a deep breath. "And if you want him, then fuck it all and go for it."

Michael walked over to Brian and stared at him, a slight smile playing across his lips. He knew that Brian had gone through a lot of changes after Justin's attack, even before it. He just had no idea how profound those changes were until he heard Brian's words. "Who is this pod person and what have you done with Brian?"

Brian snorted. "Yeah, well, don't tell anyone. Might damage my surly reputation."

"Your secret's safe with me." Michael intoned, crossing his heart.

Brian grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward, planting a kiss on Michael's lips. "Make yourself happy. Don't worry about what anyone else thinks. Isn't that what I always taught you, Mikey?"

"Yeah," Michael sighed. "Yeah, you did. So when are you going to practice what you preach?"

Brian's lips twitched in amusement. "I don't remember this conversation being about me."

"That would be a first," Michael retorted wryly.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

Michael is curled under the covers facing the wall when Ted comes back into the bedroom. He hears a small clink as Ted places something on the nightstand, then feels him climb into bed. Michael lies there frozen for a moment, not sure what to do.

He rolls over and drapes an arm across Ted. "You okay?" he asks hesitantly.

He hears Ted release a deep sign, then respond, "Yeah, I'm okay." He moves closer to Michael and catches his gaze in the dim light from the outside streetlamps. He seems about to say something, then decides against it.

He kisses Michael and Michael can sense nothing but the love and passion he has always felt from Ted.

Still, after Ted has gone to sleep, Michael lies awake.

 

\-------------------------------------------

Michael nervously knocked on Ted's door. He considered bringing some wine, but dismissed it as too pathetic. Ted might think Michael just wanted to get him drunk so he wouldn't turn him down this time.

The door swung open and Ted smiled, then looked concerned. "Michael! What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Deb's not sick again, is she?"

"No, she's fine. Everyone's fine. I just...I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Ted stepped aside hastily, laughing a little. "Of course. What can I do for you?"

Michael rubbed his arms and shifted from one foot to the other. He wasn't sure where to begin. "Ted, when I came over that night...when I was drunk and I--"

"It's okay," Ted assured him. "I don't hold a grudge against you for that. You were hurting and, like you said, drunk. It's ancient history."

"Not for me, it isn't," Michael replied, determined to get this out. "When I was here, I said that I was stuck. I was lost. I didn't know what I wanted, but I know what I want now. I want you."

Michael saw the blood drain from Ted's face. "Michael, don't...if you're not...just don't do this, please."

"I'm not drunk," Michael insisted. "And I haven't taken anything. The hardest thing I've had all day is a cup of coffee. And it's not that I'm lonely or horny - if that was it, I could just go to Babylon and pick someone up for a fuck. It's that you remember I like my chicken salad without pickles when even my mom forgets and you went with me to that comics expo in Philly even though you had the flu and felt like shit and you didn't try to hold me back when I was thinking about moving to Portland and you give me everything of yourself without asking anything in return. It's how you scratch your cheek when you yawn and how you politely excuse yourself and leave the room to fart even when it's just us guys and how when you lower your eyes and look up through your lashes it makes my mouth go dry and how I felt more in one night with you than I did in six goddamn months with David. I could stand here and tell you all the reasons why I've come to this decision but it all comes down to one thing. I've been feeling like I don't belong anywhere ever since I got back, and when I came over that night and you said you would always be here for me, I think a part of me knew. I knew where I belonged. I didn't feel lost anymore. I just needed some time to realize it, some time to get myself together so that I could come over here and tell you this and make sure you knew it's not bullshit or mind games or settling. It's you, Ted. It's been you ever since that night at the hospital."

He sucked in a deep breath and gazed steadily at Ted, not trying to hide or mask anything. He took a step towards Ted, then another and another until he was standing right in front of him, so close he could see the tiny flecks of green in his eyes and feel the warmth of Ted's breath on his face. Michael kissed Ted slowly, hesitantly and felt a surge of joy and relief when Ted returned his kiss. It was a sweet kiss, with the kind of lightness and hint of promise that true first kisses should carry.

Ted pulled back and reached a hand up to touch Michael's face. "I don't--," his voice broke and he had to start again. "I don't know what to do. I never...I never believed this day would come. I thought that night and just being your friend was all I would ever have. I was content with that. And now...I don't know what to do."

Michael kissed him again and this kiss was deeper, more demanding and hungry as they melted into each other. When Ted took his hands and led them stumbling back to the bedroom, never breaking apart, Michael knew he had finally come home.

 

\-------------------------------

Michael is still awake when the sun starts to rise. A sliver of sunlight falls across Ted's sleeping face and he mutters irritably and rolls over. One eye peers open, then the other as he sees Michael watching him. He smiles and murmurs, "G'morning."

"Morning," Michael replies softly. He reaches out to touch Ted's sleep-tousled hair. He slides over until he and Ted are nose-to-nose. He presses his lips against Ted's lightly. "I love you, you know."

Ted nods and Michael can feel the ticklish touch of his eyelashes against his cheek. "I know. Love you, too."

Michael is silent for a long time and he thinks Ted has gone back to sleep when he whispers, "Mine." He is startled when Ted replies.

"Yours," Ted agrees, and he burrows closer to Michael. "Always."

In the gentle early morning sunlight, Michael sleeps.


End file.
